


Heartbeats

by Darkest_Day



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Druids, M/M, Merlin's a badass, Minor Character Death, Mostly a drabble that got kinda long, Old Merlin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkest_Day/pseuds/Darkest_Day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One foggy day, an old man burned. But when they swept the ashes, they found no trace of him. </p>
<p>Camelot is at war with the druids, Arthur is conflicted, Merlin is sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeats

The day it started was unlike any other. 

The sun rose to a funeral pyre, stacks of wood piled high, an old man tied to the pile ungracefully. His long white hair blowing in the wind, fierce eyes staring down his father in a way no one else ever had. Some fell to the knees in defeat, some screeched that they were innocent. Most cried, they screamed and begged that they didn't do it. They'd scream until they coughed up blood. Their screams did not haunt him, he did not think that any innocent man would protest so much. 

But very few men stood there and took it, with fire glowing in their eyes, as though they dared the fire to be lit. As though they simply dared the executioner to tighten the rope around their throat, as though they dared them to bring the axe down at the back of their neck. 

And this old man stared up at his father, his white hair catching in the breeze, his eyes fixed on him. He made no sound, he made no protest, he only stood and stared, as if he dared Uther Pendragon to light the fire himself. _Get down here, you old bastard_ , his eyes said, _come burn me with your own hands_. 

Arthur had never seen such a thing, one man who held years of age upon his shoulders who held so much life in his eyes. He had used magic to entertain the children, a smile on his face, his gnarled fingers cupping the little blue butterfly. 

The morning was foggy, pale, the watery sunlight drifted through the haze, casting that dull light through the town. The people gathered, watching this old man stare Uther down. 

Never once, until this day, had Arthur seen his father bristle like that. As though he were uncomfortable, as though he was seeing something from his past. Someone, an unearthly being. Uther called down to the executioners, light it, he said, light the damn thing now. 

Arthur watched as the fire caught the dry wood, the smoke mingling with the fog. The man stared Uther down until the flames engulfed him, stared with those dangerous eyes up into Uther's and never looked away. 

And when the men, lackeys more or less, went to sweep the ash from the stone they found only the ash, bits of burned wood and the raggedy length of rope. But no bones, no teeth, no sign that a man had been burned to his death here. 

And Arthur knew something had changed, before he had even fully processed the information, something was about to happen. And he wasn't going to be so sure what it was, or when it would happen, but it was going to. 

By afternoon, the sun high in the sky, the ground wet, the air still so thick, Arthur mounted his horse and rode into the forest. Find the old man, he couldn't have got very far. So Arthur went, searching for signs but they found nothing. 

In the evening the sky was on fire, Uther was pacing back and forth, shouting abuse at servants, red in the face, until Gaius pulled him down to a chair, telling him to sit, and tipping a potion into his drink. Arthur bowed at his father's feet, long red cape fanned out behind him, head bent, as his father sat back in his chair, the cup balanced on the armrest. 

He didn't meet Merlin until Uther's boiling rage turned back into a low simmer. It was that simmer that had him sending his knights, the senior ones that did not work with Arthur, into the forests to scout for druid camps. Druids were men born into magic, by magic, they were heavily connected to the evils or the Old Religion. They lived it, they wanted to overthrow the king, but their numbers were too small for them to properly mount an attack. Uther made sure the druid numbers were small, Arthur worried for an attack from them, and judged outsiders carefully. 

Merlin stood in the middle of the courtyard when he first met him. His head held high, his eyes lit up with happiness. But there was something else in those eyes, something that he felt like he knew. He couldn't place it. 

Merlin grinned at him, thick lips curving into a smile, his eyes lidded to keep from being blinded. And when Arthur met Merlin's gaze, almost breathlessly, Merlin said "hey." 

It was a chance meeting, in the middle of the courtyard, Arthur was supposed to wait out here dressed to his best because yet another marriage prospect was coming. On one hand, his father expected him to marry, and to marry well. But he, getting lucky with his own marriage, chose to give Arthur enough time to meet the woman first, so he could decide if they were compatible enough to get along. 

Then there was Merlin, striding up to Arthur like he belonged. None of them stood in any kind of order, not yet, not until word came by that they were to align themselves. Then Uther would come out and stand tall at the centre of them, to greet them himself. 

Arthur disliked Merlin at first glance, he stood like he had never been taught how to treat royalty, he grinned at Arthur as though they were friends. But there was something about him, something that itched under Merlin's pale skin, something that begged to get free. 

"You shouldn't be here." Arthur declared, "I'd advise you to clear out before you get yourself in trouble." He said in his usual tone, the one that said without a doubt that Arthur was in charge here, and that Merlin had better kneel if he knew what was good for him. 

Instead, Merlin called him a prat. And when Arthur set him straight, his tone close to actually angry but his heart was beating too fast in his chest that he couldn't properly manage it. In one motion, he gripped Merlin's delicately thin wrist and twisted his arm behind him, Merlin's back against his chest, his knuckles touching the sharp shoulder blades outlining his spine. "I could break your arm in three places like this." He hissed, trying to keep some kind of power in his voice, but really he just felt weak. 

Merlin's skin was smooth under his palm, the bones in his wrist jutted out into between his fingers, Merlin's hand was curling to his, but still mostly useless. Merlin tipped his head back to laugh, Arthur breathed. 

He smelled like a druid, earthy like herbs, clean and unwashed at the same time. He smelled almost spicy, like the sass in his clean cut words had an odour. "I'd like to see you try." Merlin replied. 

Instead, he pushed Merlin over, telling him to get lost. Mostly, because a man on a horse was riding towards them, giving the signal that they were approaching. Arthur wondered, vaguely, as Merlin walked off with a bounce in his step, if he was going to smell like him now. 

Every so often, he caught a whiff of it again. 

The Lady was young, far younger than he was. She was only sixteen to his twenty seven. But her father was eager, as was Uther. Arthur felt rather weird about the whole thing, and Morgana was no help. She was chatting with the girl as if she were her younger sister. After dinner, walking with his father through the halls, Uther told him that he would advise this match, the girl was unspoiled by another man, Arthur would be the first. 

He was not interested in child-minding, he would like someone older, he did not need or want someone who was 'unspoiled'. 

The next day he did go for a walk with the girl, who held her head high and only gave the briefest nods to those around her. She was well-groomed, like a horse that had been raised to obey only clicks of the tongue.

She was boring, though, too small and too petite for him to think of her as a Pendragon. 

And as they walked, he spotted that strange boy called Merlin again. He was probably a little older than her, but still young. In his twenties, at least, he sat on a ledge, leaning against the wall behind him. He was all legs like that, both of them bent at the knee and in front of him. Like an invitation. He held a well-worn pipe in his hands, smoke curling out from his fingers. 

Merlin eyed him, licking the thick line of his lips before placing the stem of the pipe between them. Cheeks hollowing to suck smoke into his mouth. He exhaled through his nose, smiling as he did so, like a dragon gathering fire in his lungs. 

The girl, displeased by the smell of smoke, pulled him along some more. Arthur did not look back at the boy, he refused to. 

He politely declined the offer to meet her again the next day, after having spent so much of his previous day with her. But they all parted on good terms anyways, Uther was already planning the next one. 

It was a lazy afternoon, there was rain outside and the castle was warm. There was no training today, no important events, so they sat in the hall, sipping watered down wine and chatting. Morgana was fluttering her lashes at Sir Gwaine, a knight that had arrived recently, only a few short weeks ago, but was already charming the ladies. 

There was a knock at the large doors at the end of the hall, Uther straightened, pink in the cheeks, and called for them to come in. Gaius stepped in, hands folded in front of him, walking towards Uther. "Ah, Gaius, sit." Uther said warmly, and Gaius sat, letting out a happy breath as Morgana's servant poured him a cup. "Is that servant you spoke of ready yet?" Uther asked. 

"Ah, yes, he is. I just got finished with him, I will warn you though, he is a bit of a strange one. But he is loyal, very much so." Gaius said this easily, as though the lines were practised. 

"Well, send him in then." 

Arthur didn't expect to see Merlin step in through the doors and he especially didn't expect to see him look so small. All that easy confidence was gone now, he almost looked scared. Arthur smirked. 

"This is Merlin, sire," Gaius said, standing up and walking to Merlin, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He is the son of a dear friend of mine," all at once Arthur realized that Gaius was speaking to him. 

"He'll be your new servant." Uther said, nodding at the boy. 

"I already have a servant" Arthur pointed out, "Horace does a fine job."

"Ah, but he is getting on in years. I will not last forever, you're going to need a young man who can serve you. You're going to need someone loyal, start him young and he will stay at your side when you are king." 

"And Horace?" He asked, thumb rubbing the rim of the cup. 

"He has expressed interest in retiring, sire, his daughter recently gave birth." 

Arthur nodded, thoughtfully, though he had no interest in another servant. Horace had been his servant for years, he had taught him respect for his elders. This boy was younger than him who had a bit of a mouth. "Very well." He replied, though he was not entirely pleased with this. Though he would arrange a gift for the old man, as thanks for all these years. 

And quickly, he grew to both dislike and enjoy Merlin's company. Merlin was irritating, and though he had displayed a little bit of grace those few times Arthur has seen him, he was clumsy and uncoordinated, as though he did not know where his limbs were. 

He tossed abuse at Merlin, in an attempt to break him, that first evening. Merlin took it, at first, his teeth gritted and his expression pinched in anger. It wasn't until the end of the night when the fire exploded, and Merlin told him off. From there, it was simple. The way Merlin spoke to him was rude, ungraceful, unkind, but it was refreshing. There had been such a quiet respect between he and Horace, this was completely different. Merlin had no sense of respect, no sense of honour, he was an irritating ass but Arthur wasn't so keen on getting rid of him just yet. 

The two of them reached a quiet understanding, tease and berate and receive it in turn. And he enjoyed it. At least, until he spotted Merlin coming out of Morgana's chambers, and the two of them walking together through the grass, talking together in low voices. 

Arthur was fiercely protective of Morgana, he had nearly grown up with her. They may not be on the best of terms but he did adore her, though Uther had firmly discouraged any romantic intent. He waited a little longer before finally confronting Merlin, grasping him by the ridiculous scarf he had tied around his neck, glaring down at him as though he were scum. 

Merlin only laughed, telling him he had no interest in her that way, only that she was becoming a friend. "Servants are not _friends_ " he spat, "they are _servants_." 

So Merlin laughed in his face, "that must make her a better man than you." He sneered, knowing he'd won this one, and Arthur shoved him towards the door and told him to leave.

He spoke to Morgana, later, who only smiled at him. "I enjoy his company, Arthur." She said, "and he's rather easy on the eyes, don't you think?" He groaned, not entirely ready to think of Merlin as attractive just yet, even though he remembered Merlin's wrist in his grasp like he had it there again. The earthy smell had faded from him, replaced by the smells that reminded him of Gaius. 

Merlin's loyalty was tested, a few weeks later. And it was so simple, too, the servants were nattering away together, caught up in gossip. Merlin stood with them, laughing along, until one of them asked, "so does Arthur bed nearly as many women as we've heard?" There were shrieks of hushed laughter between the girls. 

Merlin only laughed, "I can't say I've been paying much attention." 

"Well, then is he really as much of a brute as he seems like? I heard he fired that old servant of his because he was too old to serve him anymore." 

Merlin couldn't have known Arthur was there, Arthur was hidden, the others wouldn't have dared keep talking had they known he was there. "Arthur is a good man." Merlin said, gently, "I met Horace, he retired, he wasn't fired. Gaius sent a letter to me when he said he wanted to retire, so I could come here and take his place. I don't want to hear you guys talk about Arthur like that again." 

With that, Merlin began walking. Arthur leaned against the wall and folded his arms in front of his chest. When Merlin rounded the corner, Arthur smiled. Merlin's ears went red, they stood eye to eye for a moment before Merlin simply said. "Shut up." And stalked off again. Arthur chuckled, following him down the corridor. 

"Tomorrow you're going to help me train." He said. "And we're going to make sure you know how to hold a sword, can't have my servant looking like an untrained child." He clapped Merlin on the back, the boy nearly stumbled, and Arthur stalked away.

And Merlin complained the whole time, Arthur's training schedule wasn't even that strict. Monday was archery, target practise, after resting on Sunday his men needed to get back into their proper mindset. Hit the target, don't hit anyone else. Merlin was sent to fetch arrows after they had shot their collection of them. 

One man, Kay, who was thick and a bit daft, shot an arrow at Merlin while he was plucking them from the target. It was a near thing, the arrow had been dangerously close to piercing through the meat of his thigh. That kind of injury was always a brutal one. 

Arthur yelled at him, told him that he is never to put an innocent man in danger like that ever again. That he should never raise his bow or his sword to a man who did not raise a weapon at him. He dismissed Kay for the day, and Arthur thought, as Merlin carried the bundle of arrows for each knight to take a few, he caught a smile on his lips. 

"Looks like we have an extra target." Arthur told him, "pick up a bow and get back here, I'll have someone else collect them." 

So Merlin did, and he was a truly terrible shot. The other knights laughed, teased, and some encouraged him. And slowly, some of the other servants the knights had, their squires, were invited into the group, the knights gave them their bows and taught them. Arthur felt a swell of pride watching them, using the skills Arthur had taught them and passing them on to another. It was a great way to solidify the lessons. 

He put his hands on Merlin, adjusting his stance, one hand along the back of his wrist, fingertips brushing his hand, the other folding over his hand, tugging the arrow back a little bit more, cheek against Merlin's to teach him how to aim. Merlin still smelled spicy, his body was warm. 

He hit the target that time. 

They used crossbows more often, but he preferred to teach this method. Crossbows were so easy to use, they were faster and took much less aiming. It's why he preferred to teach this way, so they learned. 

Tuesday was positions, a physically strenuous lesson. Stand there, hold it, keep it and hold it. Merlin was happy to have little to do as Arthur stalked amongst the men, adjusting them, before calling out the next position. So Arthur put Merlin into position and made him hold it until he simply fell over, sweat on his forehead. 

Wednesday was reserved for jousting, or combat on horses. He got Merlin to hold a target, high in the air, and "damn it, Merlin, swing it around. Just like that!" they raced their horses, their own jousting sticks under their arm to try to get it. The little hoop was caught more often than not, and Merlin would grumble as he fixed it back into the end of the handle before hauling it above his head again. His skin shone with sweat, his cheeks tinged pink by the sun. 

Thursday was hand to hand combat, sparring, so Arthur dressed Merlin up with in armour and got him to spar with him. Trying to get him used to the idea of it, a battle could happen at any moment, Merlin would always need to be prepared. 

That night, when Merlin followed Arthur into his chambers, Arthur sat him down and lifted up the back of his tunic. Merlin refused to take it off, so Arthur dealt by simply hauling it over his head with his arms still caught in it. "You'll be sore tomorrow." Arthur said, almost kindly, spreading salve onto his palms and running his hands over his back. He admired the knobs of his spine as he worked, ran his hands across his arms, and told Merlin that Gaius would have more, he should do his legs too. 

Merlin returned the favour, quietly, after Arthur had bathed. Merlin's hands were sharp, long fingers, delicate touches. Soft at first before finding confidence to press deeper. Arthur rarely got sore, now, he had been doing this for so long. Training someone new caused him to work a little harder. 

Friday was a brief lesson with crossbows, to sharpen the skills. The arrows were blunted, and a servant stood on the other end of the field wearing enough armour and padding so they wouldn't get hurt, and ran back and forth. 

Arthur did not offer Merlin up for that task, only sent him off to refill the water flasks. 

After the crossbows, they moved on to knife throwing and other things, mini lessons, sharpening odd skills. He had Merlin repairing the targets, sharpening swords, mending straw-filled dummies, odd jobs. 

On Saturdays, Uther was overseeing the training, checking skills and Arthur's progress, assessing the new knights, meeting the new hopefuls. Merlin was sent to go about other business. 

Each week was more or less the same, and sometimes he let Merlin in on the training too, perhaps it would improve his coordination. That's what he told his father, anyways, while Merlin was aiming an arrow at the target. Uther had not been impressed, but after Arthur explained, and told Merlin to shoot, the king had nodded. "That is an excellent idea, Arthur, but do not make a habit of it. Break him of his clumsiness then keep him on his regular duties." 

But Arthur wouldn't, because he believed in training regularly to keep skills from diminishing. He also noticed that Merlin and Gwaine were getting quite close, too, it seemed like Merlin was getting along with many people other servants wouldn't have. 

Arthur did not mind as much as he had with Morgana. 

He sat in his chambers, his hair still wet, naked from the waist up in a chair by the fire. There was dirt on Merlin's face, Arthur had told him to use the remainder of the bathwater, but he had refused, saying he was quite alright as he was. 

Merlin was walking with a bit of a limp, he hadn't said anything about it yet, only watched. Until Merlin's face twisted with pain as he knelt to gather clothes from the floor. "Merlin, come here." He instructed. 

Straightening, another wince, Merlin walked towards him, setting the clothes in the pile he'd been making in the centre of the floor. 

"Drop your trousers." Arthur stated, Merlin bristled. "Your leg, you idiot, you're limping." Merlin frowned. 

"It's fine, Arthur, you don't need to." 

"Nonsense, I know how to do this just as well as Gaius." He said, and Merlin glared at him. He glared for a long time, before finally loosening the strings and letting his trousers fall. He bent to loosen his boot, and finally, slipped his foot clear of the cloth. His ankles looked so delicate. 

There was an angry red mark on his thigh, Merlin jumped when Arthur touched him, but relaxed and let Arthur move his leg. He could smell his sweat, strong and spicy, his skin. It was the smell of an unwashed man, it got him noticing his pulse. He directed Merlin's foot near his thigh, on the chair beside him, touching the curve of his ankle briefly. 

The salve was cool on his fingertips as he spread it over Merlin's skin. He pressed his fingers against his skin, around the mark, "did you get hit?" He asked, voice low, concentrating on the muscles under the skin. He could feel the knot of muscle under and slowly began to massage. 

"Wasn't watching where I was going." Merlin mumbled, Arthur didn't dare look up at him. "Got one of those training swords into the leg." 

Arthur hummed, still working, "it'll be a great bruise." He murmured, listening to the quiet of the fire and Merlin's soft breathing. He was concentrating on Merlin's thighs, his knees, the hair growing on his legs. He liked the way his legs were shaped, thin and lean. 

When he had finished, he guided Merlin's foot to the floor again, wondering why he had not just left Merlin to ask Gaius for help. 

He didn't watch Merlin as he dressed, only stood and left him to it, feeling a little light headed. 

When Merlin left, he lay in bed and stared at the window. This wasn't really a good thing. But in those weeks, over and over, he noticed him. Merlin still talked back to him but there were moments of softness between them, those times Merlin caught his eyes across the grass. Merlin's gaze was always so focused, so intense. 

He'd never seen anything like it before. 

There was another potential bride coming to Camelot, Arthur had never felt so unwilling to go through this again before now. He couldn't even be sure why. But while he groaned and complained, Merlin teased him. He laughed, his eyes crinkling with his smile, "what if she has one of those noses shaped like a pig?" They giggled like children together, sitting at either end of the table, sharing a mug of ale between the two of them. He had never sat for a drink with Horace, he preferred to be quiet, lurked around the edges of the room. 

Merlin was loud, in his face and unable to make a quiet entrance. He sat with one long leg draped over the arm rest of the chair, casually, again Arthur nearly thought of it as an invitation. There was just something about him, something he couldn't resist. 

But Mithian was quite beautiful, she looked like Merlin in a way, but Merlin spent the day with Morgana while Arthur and Mithian went for a ride. She was much more mature than the last girl had been, and he liked her well enough. Though there was something holding him back, something he couldn't place, something that raced under his skin, something that made his heart skip a beat. 

But she was lovely, really, he could have settled with her if there wasn't something somewhere else. He thought about what Morgana and Merlin might have been doing, he imagined him pressing his full lips to the elegant line of her throat, his dirty fingers tracing her hips, both of them so pale with dark hair.

He shook the thoughts away, perhaps he still had long forgotten _feelings_ for Morgana hidden within him, and thinking about someone else having her got him distracted. 

He told his father, later, that he liked Mithian well enough but he wasn't sure if he was interested in marrying her. 

His father said that it was good enough for him, and he was going to go ahead and arrange the marriage. Arthur sighed, and agreed, only to slink to his room to sulk for a little bit. Merlin was no help, who arrived with a bounce in his step and a grin on his face. "Bugger off, Merlin." Arthur growled, not interested in his irritating cheer right now. He'd probably bedded Morgana, that's why he was so happy with himself. 

"No, what's got you all foul?" He asked, sitting down on the table, his legs over the side. 

"I'm getting married, if you must know." He declared, glaring up at Merlin, whose expression flickered dangerously. Arthur had no idea what that meant. 

"Married, yeah? Oh." He said, looking away, out of the window and at the fireplace and to the door instead of at him. 

"Yes, _Mer_ lin, it's a simple concept." But he wasn't happy about it, and it really wasn't simple anyways. This marriage settled complicated deals, it was all politics and Arthur had no interest in that. 

Merlin turned to him then, there was something in his eyes, "hm, I suppose." Merlin said, his voice was suddenly low, almost husky. "Guess that means that you can't bed anymore random girls, huh?" He teased, Arthur scoffed, unable to even take the joke for what it is. 

"You should know very well by now that I don't bed random girls, Merlin," Horace had caught him with one of the serving girls once, and had berated him mercilessly. That it would not do for Arthur to impregnate ladies before he was wed, and that he wouldn't want to come down with any awkward ailments that he would have to speak to Gaius about. And that had been an uncomfortable enough thought to keep him from doing it. 

It had scared him off of sex for the most part. Once he got older, he became more and more sure that Uther had put him up to it, so Arthur wouldn't be reckless. It wouldn't do for a woman to have the bastard child of a prince. 

But the look in Merlin's eyes was hard to read, as he fixed them on Arthur. His expression was parts sadness, parts regret, parts that cocky little grin he always wore and maybe a little bit of something else that Arthur couldn't place. He had no idea what was running through his head, and normally Merlin was quite simple. Borderline mentally addled. Though Merlin also looked a little uncomfortable, as though he were uncertain about something. 

He couldn't fathom why Merlin would look at him like that, his eyes lit up and conflicted, staring at him over his shoulder as he sat on the table. Their lives were changing, if they liked it or not. Arthur only had the illusion of choice, but Merlin had none. Though, he supposed he did. Merlin could always leave if he was truly unhappy. Somehow, that thought made something unpleasant twist in his belly. 

"You don't really bed anyone, do you?" Merlin teased, whatever was plaguing his mind was gone, he was back to grinning like a fool. 

"Are you trying to tell me I'm somehow inadequate?" He replied, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"I don't know, are you?" 

"I'll have you know, _Mer_ lin, that I have far too many duties to complete without worrying about impregnating women." 

"Men don't get pregnant." There was something very odd in Merlin's voice, it made his ears heat. 

"I'm sure you'd know." Arthur replied, his voice a bit lower than he intended. 

Merlin chuckled darkly, "I might." His heart hammered, his mouth felt a little dry, he didn't know what to say as he looked up at him, leaning back against the chair. He stared hard, trying to figure him out. 

"Yeah?" He rasped, he really hadn't meant to sound like that, or give such a pathetic reply. He cleared his throat, shifted in his chair, "you mean you can actually convince someone to sleep with you with those ears?" 

"Yes." He said, straightening, and turning his body so he was facing Arthur. "I can, want me to prove it?" Merlin was closer to him now, Arthur could lean forwards and touch him if he wanted to. 

"I'd like to see you try." Arthur challenged, leaning forwards a little bit. Merlin moved slowly, each movement calculated and careful, as though he were forcing himself to not be clumsy. He was forcing his limbs to move the way he wanted them to, and carefully placed his boots on Arthur's chair. One on either side of him, right under the armrest, next to his thighs. 

"I can handle that." Merlin said, leaning forwards, elbows on his knees. "But can you?" 

Merlin's mouth was rough against his, his fingers curled into his collar as he pulled him in. Merlin let out a shuddering breath, breaking the kiss for a moment, as if he had been overcome for just a second. He pulled him back in, tongue and teeth. 

Merlin was a wonder, he was up and down, he couldn't seem to figure out what kind of person he was. But Arthur knew a few things. Merlin was clumsy, absolutely, but graceful when he was sitting still. He was an idiot, most of the time. But he wasn't a total idiot, sometimes Arthur thought it was all just an act. He didn't think he'd ever figure him out. 

He put his hands on Merlin's knees and boldly slid his palms up his thighs. He didn't stop until his fingers met hips, his thumbs just about to meet the crease between his legs. A palm pressed to the back of his neck, warm and heavy, keeping him pinned there. Until Arthur was kissing the corner of his lips, down along his jaw to taste his throat. To finally sink his teeth into the skin. So he did, Merlin dropped his forehead to his shoulder. He moved one hand up along his chest, under the scarf he wore. His fingers found the knot and fumbled with it until he got it loose, then he was pulling it away so he could have proper access, dipping his tongue into the drop of his collar, sliding teeth up the skin to press his lips just under his jaw. 

It was exploration now, testing Merlin's breathy little noises and finding the spots that made his fingers twitch. And when he found them he went for them, until Merlin gripped him too tight to handle. His long fingers were cool, his palm was hot, his other hand was scraping down is chest and stomach. 

Merlin's hands were in his hair, gripping tightly, his thighs trembling on either side of his head. And after, Merlin slumped bonelessly into Arthur's lap. He was absurdly heavy, but Merlin wasn't moving, content and happy and still hanging out of his trousers. Arthur stroked his hair, and after a few minutes Merlin was sinking to his knees on the hard ground. 

He pulled Merlin into his bed with him after, trailed his fingers across his jaw and let Merlin kiss him softly. One by one, returning them. When he woke up, Merlin was still there, buried deep under the thick blankets, his face swallowed by the pillows. 

There were many things he should be doing, like getting prepared for the day. It was archery day, he always liked those days. 

Instead, he pushed his hand into Merlin's trousers. 

He was a little bit late, but the rest of the knights had started without him. Suddenly Gwaine's friendliness with Merlin seemed suspicious, Arthur found himself snapping at the knight more than he normally would. 

That afternoon, his marriage to Mithian was announced, she smiled uncertainly at him, and he returned the smile. He made it a plan to tell her that he was with another, though he needed to make sure he could trust her to keep the secret. He wasn't so sure what his father would think of this. 

That night Merlin joined him in his room, and he did, again and again, until the day before he was to be married. He and Mithian had parted ways to take part in their celebrations. After a long day of jousting matches and displays of strength, which were rather enjoyable, he sat with some of his knights for a few drinks. Merlin was there, too, and after a little while, the divisions between them seemed to disappear. 

But before he had met them for their evening of relaxation, Gaius found him. 

"I want you to be very careful about Merlin." Gaius said, staring at him sternly. "I've noticed he hasn't been in his room these last few nights, I'm not going to tell you not to, but I'm going to tell you to step very carefully. I do not wish to see you get hurt." 

Arthur couldn't place what that meant, so he planned on asking Merlin after they were finished with the drinking. 

And when they were, Arthur dragged Merlin to his chambers for the last evening he would be spending in them and pushed Merlin down onto the floor, driven by the alcohol pumping in his blood and the lusty heat that radiated off of Merlin. 

He never got a chance to ask Merlin why Gaius had spoken to him, not until he was putting his hands on Merlin's hips and pushing his tunic up over his stomach. Merlin swore, then, springing into action and trying to push the fabric back down.

Arthur had already seen. 

The druid symbol was marked into his skin, it surrounded his belly button. The dark swirls looked like angry bruises, he was terrified. His father hated the druids, making them out to be these evil creatures, barely human. Merlin hid his eyes behind his arm, lying there with his stomach exposed. Arthur sat back, away from him. "Merlin.." he murmured, voice shaking. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur." He said, quietly, and sat up slowly. He crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you." 

"What? That you're a druid? Have they sent you? Come to kill me or my father so you can take over?" The anger was hotter than the passion. The alcohol had been snapped from his system. 

"No, nothing like that!" He begged, "I was young, I was stupid. I ran away from my mother when I was younger, I'd have died if the druids hadn't found me. They took me in, the raised me, and by the time I was old enough to realize that I shouldn't be there, I couldn't leave." Merlin looked like he was in pain. "I went back to see my mother, after I was marked, and she said she'd talk to Gaius and see if there would be a place here for me. It took awhile, but there finally was." 

Something seemed strange about the story, but Arthur couldn't place it. Perhaps it was the way he spoke of the druids, Merlin had smelled like those strange herbs they used, back when he had first met him. Merlin was lying. "Are you magic?" He asked. 

"No." Merlin replied, but the hesitation, the second of it, had Arthur's heart twisting. 

"Don't lie to me, Merlin." 

"I'm not, I don't _have_ magic! You need to believe me." 

Arthur was beginning to care about Merlin, he wasn't so sure his dislike of druids from everything he had been told was enough to make him stop liking him. Even if he wasn't a druid. 

"Please, Arthur." Merlin said softly. "I never wanted to like you, you idiot, you're a prat and you weren't supposed to be kind under it all." 

"I wasn't supposed to be?" The anger was fading, the alcohol was returning. 

"No. Not at all." 

"Right. Okay." With that, Arthur was standing up. But Merlin was standing up too, grabbing Arthur's wrist in his firm grip. 

"I was going to tell you, I promise." Merlin said, his voice shook. Arthur said nothing, but he didn't pull away. He looked at him, he wasn't glaring. 

He didn't so much pull away, but he did take a few steps towards the bed. He sat down, Merlin stayed, his hand still around his wrist. "Tell me about the druids." He said, gentle. "Sit, I have never heard anything good. Change my mind." 

So Merlin sat, and after a few moments of silence, he started talking. He painted an entirely new picture of them, a whole new idea. Uther's words seemed stale, now, devoid of all colour while Merlin drew vivid beauty in his mind. Merlin had been lying, he had enjoyed his time with the druids. He believed every word, no one could speak like that in a lie. He said that the druids have lived in fear for years, children had no place to call home because they had to move, constantly, so they were not found. They were hunted like animals, living in constant fear with no chance of freedom. Someone had came to Camelot, once, begging for peace. Uther had sentenced him to death. 

At the end of the night, he pulled Merlin close again, and the two of them sank into the mattress. He undressed him completely and traced the druid marking with his tongue.

 When he married Mithian the next day, his mind drifted to Merlin and everything that he had told him. Merlin had lied but then he had confessed, he was beginning to be okay with that. 

The first night in his new chambers was spent between him and Mithian, talking late into the night. There were three rooms, one shared in the middle, and two on either end that were their own. His room had been relocated while the ceremony had taken place. 

He didn't summon Merlin to his room that night, but he did ask Mithian about her views on the druids, and magic. 

Mithian had no issue with the druids, they had always been kind to her. She was relieved that Arthur didn't share his father's views, though he had yet to make his decision. It seemed as though it had already been made for him, the druids were not what his father said. Perhaps a little more loose in their views, more connected with the earth, but not evil.

It was all so new to him, but Mithian was kind and strong enough to state her beliefs, even if these conversations were clear treason. They would both be in danger if someone found out. But she supported him, and placed a hand on his face and told him he would make a great king one day. That she was honoured to have him as her husband. He kissed her knuckles and told her he too was honoured to have her as his wife. 

They went to their separate rooms that night, they were only friends at this point. 

The next night, while the two of them dined together while Merlin tidied the room, Arthur told her he was involved with him. She only laughed, and told Merlin to sit with them, "I can't possibly finish all of this, you're going to have to help me."

Flushed, Merlin sat, hooking his ankle around Arthur's under the table. It was good to be honest with her, so she did not find out at a later date, if things went sour. But the two of them got along well enough, especially once Merlin realized she wasn't a threat. She supported them, and expressed that she too may go looking for someone. He agreed, and together, they agreed that one day they would need to produce heirs, but that time was not going to be soon. 

Surprisingly, it was Mithian who brought up the subject of magic. She sat by the window, inhaling the sweet smelling breeze. "What could magic do for us, do you think?" She asked, her voice so soft. Arthur contemplated, then realized he had not initially been shocked. 

"I am not sure. I don't know the extent of magic. Merlin?" Merlin was lounging in the bed, long fingers sharpening the sword in his lap. 

He looked up slowly, "I suppose it could help with the crops." He offered, slowly, "and everything, really. I saw a lot of magic." Merlin admitted it slowly, as if he feared Arthur would snap or strike. His eyes were careful, eager. When Arthur said nothing, he kept going, "I think it would benefit everyone, actually." 

"Tell me more." Arthur encouraged as he made his way to the bed, sliding in behind him and resting his chin on his shoulder. Mithian came from the window and settled on the bed as well, leaning against the high stack of pillows. He listened to Merlin's smooth voice, enjoying the way the skin moved and shifted with each time he swept over the sword. 

He listened, and he thought. If anyone heard the three of them, they would be punished. But in a way, it was freeing. They spoke openly, Mithian confessed that she had always thought these rules banning magic were insane, magic was a weapon just as any sword was. But magic could do so many things. 

Arthur did not know that the moment he agreed with them, that perhaps when he was king it was time to change (he knew his father would never change his mind, so many had tried so many different ways in the past), was the moment everything began turning again. 

The man being hung in the courtyard had saved the life of his two daughters, they'd been in the river. They'd been nearly swept downstream, but the man had used magic to haul them out. It had taken everything he had to do so, as soon as his girls were safe, he had blacked out. He had woken in Camelot's dungeons. 

Arthur had never felt rage like this before, as the two girls clung to each other as they watched their father hauled to the platform. He had fought with his father over this, he had argued with him for hours, Morgana had fought alongside him. She had told him that he was a foolish man, magic was not evil, those girls would have died without his help. She asked why he didn't have a heart. 

The girls screamed while their father dangled. Arthur wanted to pull out the sword at his hip. Morgana stood beside him, clenching his arm so tight he couldn't feel his fingers, her face hidden in his shoulder. 

Merlin was in the crowd, kneeling down to the two girls and offering his arms for them. So Arthur went too, with Morgana beside him, and they went into the courtyard. The crowd parted for them, everyone watched along with silence, as Morgana offered the girls little braided headbands of flowers. He had no idea where that had come from, had she thought of this before hand? Had she woven them earlier? 

She placed them on their heads as Merlin picked up the older of the two, and Arthur grabbed the other. Together, the three of them walked slowly back into the doors of Camelot, the silence ringing in his ears. 

He had no doubt his father was furious, but he was not going to care until they were inside. The girls had no mother, and now no father, their display had been a quiet act of defiance. Showing the town, quite clearly, that these girls were now orphans, because Uther had killed an innocent man. 

Uther ordered Merlin sent to the stocks, Mithian stood tall and unwavering beside him, no one dared throw anything at him. She stayed at his side, all day and all night, until Uther released him. Morgana was sent to the dungeons, and after arguing with his father, Arthur was too. The two of them leaned against the wall between them, laughing about it. 

Guinevere watched the girls until their aunt came to get them, they visited them frequently, once they were free from their confinements. The sun seemed brighter, the days seemed longer, Uther was upset with Arthur, clearly. But they had reached an agreement, Arthur didn't dare bring up the subject. If he did, it would not end well. But he had hope, he had plans. 

All they could do was wait, because they all knew what had to happen for this all to change. Nothing they said would change Uther's mind. And nothing ever would. 

He woke that night to a bright flash of fire outside his window. Burning bright and hot, he jolted awake, Merlin was next to him, grumbling something under his breath. 

Arthur did not waste time in pulling himself from bed, heading to the window. Another flash of fire, dread filled him because there was no way what he saw was actually happening. 

The dragon soared across the night sky, weightless in the air and massive. It swooped down to the ground, breathing flames from its mouth. Arthur was pulling clothes on, quickly, Merlin was gathering armour. It didn't take more than a few minutes before the two of them were rushing down through the corridors. And just before the reached the doors, the silence seemed to stretch on forever, he pulled Merlin close to him by the scarf around his neck, kissing him, sweetly and slowly. When he pulled away, he eyed him long enough to say, "we need to get you your own armour. I wouldn't know how to handle losing you." He kissed him again, Merlin's fingers curling at the nape of his neck. The second kiss lingered. 

Outside smelled like burning wood, there were screams, little fires dotted the ground. The dragon roared overhead, men pointed their crossbows at the sky, trying to get a hit in. 

His father was there, too, which was a surprise. He was a man who was getting on in years, he let his men fight for him, he taught Arthur how to lead. Perhaps Uther had something to prove, by being out here he was proving he was still a man, that he was not going to be undermined by his son. 

It was difficult to attack a dragon when it moved through the sky at random points, never landing, simply soaring through the sky. He thought he heard something that sounded like laughter ringing through the sky. 

The fight wasn't so much a fight as it was watching helplessly as the dragon attacked. There was nothing he could do. But the dragon did land, eventually, crushing the feeble wooden stocks with its claws. It crunched easily under it, the dragon exhaled more flames and Arthur could feel the heat of it, even though he was far away. 

That's when he noticed that Merlin was gone. 

Panic rose in his chest, he knew that this was the danger that came with caring too much for anyone, they were only a distraction in a fight. So he moved, trying to find him, hoping he had not been taken down. Within all the flames, he had lost him. 

The dragon rose again, shaking off the arrows, and soared over the forest. Uther and his knights followed, Arthur did too, his heart still pounding in his chest. 

They raced through the trees, the silence of it was haunting. He could smell the smoke, he could hear the muffled screams from Camelot at his back, but it was all so quiet, like the forest was trapping them all here. 

A flash of flame directed him deeper, rushing through the night, narrowly avoiding trees as he ran. There were others around him, Sir Gwaine was closest. 

He kept running, towards the smoke pouring into the sky, before he heard a noise, a thump that rattled the ground, from the other direction. He slowed, breathing hard, turning his head in the direction of the new noise. The others around him kept running towards the smoke, Arthur turned in the other direction. 

Gwaine followed him. 

And what he saw was the last thing he expected to see. A small clearing, lit by moonlight, a boy with dark hair and long limbs standing in the long grass looking up at the dragon that had just destroyed parts of Camelot.

"It is done." The dragon hummed, voice deep, Arthur slowed as Gwaine grabbed his arm tightly, trying to pull him away. Arthur shoved him back. "King Uther Pendragon is dead." Something cold fell down his spine, that couldn't be true. 

"Get away, now, you've had your revenge, it's time to leave." The boy said, Arthur knew that voice and the cold in his bones froze. "You're free. And, thank you." 

Blinded, Arthur moved forwards as the dragon opened his wings. He tackled Merlin to the ground as Gwaine tried to stop him. He put his hands around Merlin's throat, pinning him to the ground. Anger beat within him, he could taste it. "You planned this." He spat, Gwaine was trying to pull him off, pull him away, Arthur resisted. "You killed him. You told your dragon to kill him." 

There were tears gathering in Merlin's pale eyes, mouth open, struggling for breath. Arthur's thumbs could crush the soft bones in his throat, he could kill him here and now and he could say the dragon had done it. Tears were slipping from the corner of Merlin's eyes, disappearing into his hair. "Arthur! Stop! Don't you want to hear him out first?" Gwaine growled, not daring to step in in fear for Merlin's life, but unable to just watch. He stood, wide-eyed, his hands out. 

He loosened his grip, but kept his thumbs pressed to the skin, Merlin inhaled raggedly, closing his eyes with a low whimper. "Explain yourself." Arthur growled. 

"It was the only way." Merlin rasped, eyes still closed, his voice trembled like he was frozen in ice. "He killed my father, he killed all the dragons, he killed my _friends_." 

"There's always another way!" Arthur shouted, increasing the pressure, Merlin did not fight, he only lay there. "You used me to get to him!" He accused, Merlin tried to shake his head, struggling to breathe. Arthur's head was spinning. 

"N-no" Merlin started, "please, Arthur," he broke off, squirming, tilting his head back in an effort to just breathe. 

But his squirming began to still, he stopped rasping, Gwaine was shouting at him. All at once Arthur let him go, getting off of him, standing and stepping away, as if Merlin's skin had burned him. All at once Merlin was breathing again, sucking in a gasping breath and falling to his side, coughing, trembling, Gwaine knelt beside him, hands on him, trying to help. 

Arthur rose his sword to Gwaine, "I should have known you'd be working with him, you were too friendly." Gwaine looked at him, fury in his eyes, "I'd advise you to get out of Camelot, before the guards find you. I'm sure they would love to hear about how you assisted the man who killed the king." 

"I'm not leaving him." 

He moved quickly, the tip of his sword slicing a clean line of blood into Gwaine's cheek. "Get away from him." He growled. 

Sword still pointed at Gwaine, Arthur grabbed Merlin by the front of his tunic, hauling the trembling boy to his feet, and began leading him off. Gwaine made a hasty retreat, like the coward he was. 

As soon as he got to Camelot, he tossed Merlin to the hard stone ground, "take him to the dungeons, do not ask why, I will deal with him later." And turned to find his father. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. 

But it was, Uther lay on a bed of blood on the stone ground, they had carried him back here. The skin on his right side was blackened, burnt from dragon's fire. Blood seeped from the wounds, lifelessly, "he died here." Someone said, sadly, "the dragon is gone, but.." 

Arthur knelt beside him, hardly able to believe that this was happening. Merlin had organized this, Merlin had done this, Merlin had wanted the king dead. And here he was, dead and bleeding out. 

He stood, and left without a word. He made his way to his chambers, the ones that were his and only his, and locked the door behind him. Slowly, he pulled the armour off his body, staring out at the pale morning sky. The bed with its blankets tossed everywhere from how fast they had left it. A spare pair of Merlin's boots alongside his at the foot of it. Merlin was everywhere in this room. 

The armour clattered to the ground around him, his father was dead and Merlin used him. 

He did not sleep, he went down to the dungeons. 

Merlin was sitting on the floor, arms clutching his knees to his chest, staring straight ahead. His eyes were red, puffy, when he saw Arthur he stood quickly, coming to the bars. He wrapped his long fingers around them, "Arthur." He breathed, his voice a little rough. There were bruises on his neck, his scarf must have fallen off somewhere. 

"You're going to tell me everything. The truth, if I find out you're lying I will kill you where you stand." The threat brought a hot swipe of pain through his chest, he hadn't begun to process this yet. 

"The druids, they took me in. M-my father was a dragonlord, so when Uther killed him I became one too." Merlin took a deep breath, steadying himself, in such a hurry to speak and explain himself. "Your father killed so many of them, they were my friends. I am not a druid, but I lived with them for most of my life. T-they took care of me, we never had a proper _home_ , Arthur. Could you imagine that?" Tears were slipping down his cheeks again, falling into his lips or running down his jaw. "You're just a kid, and every few weeks, sometimes every few days, you have to pack up everything and move again so the king doesn't find you and kill you." His voice was shaking, about to break. 

"I never had anyone, everyone I looked up to when I was a child ended up dead, because Uther didn't like the druids. So they sent me here, I was supposed to become your friend, meet you and change your mind about magic and the druids." 

"So you never once cared about me, did you?" Arthur hissed. 

"That wasn't supposed to happen!" Merlin begged, "please, I swear, that wasn't supposed to happen. I haven't faked a thing, I loved you because you were a prat and you were charming and you weren't supposed to be so attractive. I never used you, I just wanted to see you do the right thing. I wanted them to be _safe_."

"You wanted to use me to get close enough to my father to kill him." Arthur spat. "You're a traitor, you lied to me. Do you have magic too? Is that why you're doing all of this?"

"I don't _have_ magic, Arthur, I didn't use you. Kilgharrah is the last dragon, I couldn't let him stay down there, I'm a dragonlord, we're like family." 

Arthur glared at him, at the boy that had been his lover that had lied to him and used him. "I never wanted you to find out like this, there was no other option. I couldn't sit by and watch Uther kill innocent men! How many would have died, Arthur, before you became king? How many people would you have to watch burn or hanged while you waited around?" The words stung, because they were painfully true. 

"There would have been another way." But he didn't know what that would have been. "There's always another way." But the words felt like a lie on his tongue. 

"Please, Arthur, I'm so sorry, you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you." 

He didn't reply, he only turned and left, walking away with his head held high. His mind was blank, tired, his father was dead and his lover was a traitor. 

He went back to his chambers, and made his way to the shared rooms. He sank into the bed, big enough for two, and fell asleep. He knew his sheets would smell like Merlin, he would have them taken away when he woke. 

When he did wake up, Mithian was sitting next to him, her hand smoothing his hair gently. He let out a breath, sinking deeper into the sheets. "They're waiting for you." She said, her voice so gentle. "They have everything ready." 

There was quiet, only her hand running through his hair. "Where's Merlin?" 

Arthur exhaled, sitting up and getting out of the bed. He was still fully dressed, he had no desire to change. "He has been arrested for treason." He replied. 

"What?" 

"He is a druid, and the dragon's attack was planned by him, all of this was planned by him. He only came to Camelot to murder Uther." 

"Arthur, that can't be true." 

"I saw him, talking to the dragon. They planned Uther's death. Merlin came to Camelot, used me, and now Uther's dead." 

"Why?" She asked, her eyes wide. 

And here's where Arthur stopped, the loose anger within him dripping away through the cracks. He sighed, "he wanted to make sure the druids were safe. He didn't want to let anyone burn for magic again." 

Mithian went quiet, and slowly got to her feet, smoothing her skirts. "Tell me one thing, Arthur." She said, voice careful. She did not meet his gaze. "Could you really sit back and watch while he slaughtered druids? Could you watch another man die because he used magic to help someone?" 

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, pacing. "I do not condone his actions, Arthur, but can you blame him? If it were your people getting killed, wouldn't you do whatever it took to save them? Even if that meant murder?" 

"He was my father." Arthur replied weakly. 

"I know, love," she put her hands on his arms, comfortingly, "but he did what he had to do, what any of us would have done in his place."

"He used me." His voice sounded pitiful. She stepped into his arms, she was so warm. "He made me think he cared." 

"Arthur, no one could fake that. I saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one else could see." 

He held her for a long few moments, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "You don't need to act right now. But you are going to have to decide." 

The next few days were fast-paced, so much had to be done. But always, in the corner of his mind, Merlin was there, waiting for him to decide what he was going to do. People asked him where Merlin was, some who were more bold asked why Merlin was in the dungeons, Arthur gave no answers. 

He was crowned king, and that evening, he went into the town to find Horace. The old man was happy to see him, clapping him on the back and offering his sympathies for his father's death. When they spoke, Horace said that it was high time he settled down, then he scooped up the child from the cradle Arthur had missed. He settled the baby in Arthur's arms, "she's my life now, like raising another child. My daughter works so hard, she needs a break sometimes." His voice was so fond, Merlin had not lied about this part. 

He went to his rooms, later, settling into the very same chair where Merlin had held his hair tightly between his legs. His stomach churned unpleasantly at the thought, what was he doing now? He couldn't keep Merlin in the dungeons, but he had also conspired to kill the king. 

The knock at the door was so soft, he almost didn't hear it. When he called for them to enter, Morgana slipped into the room. She was twisting her fingers together nervously. "Morgana?" He asked, she let out a breath. 

"I have something to tell you. Don't you dare interrupt me, if you do you're dead. Do you remember my nightmares?" At Arthur's careful nod, she continued, "they weren't nightmares. They were visions. I've been sleeping better, ever since Merlin arrived. He told me what the nightmares were, and he taught me how to control it. I am a seer, Arthur, I have magic." 

The confession hung in the air between them, her fingers white from holding them so tightly. 

He took a few steps towards her, she looked terrified, before he finally wound his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. She relaxed instantly, trembling, "Thank you for telling me." He said into her hair. "Merlin is the one who set the dragon to attack, that's why he's locked away. I've struggled, but I know there was nothing else he could do. Can you," he paused, pulling back to look at her. "Can you tell him that he is free to go? But, tell him I never wish to see him again." 

"He won't like that." 

"If he loves me as he claims, he will listen, and he won't return." 

He sat down at the table, his head was in his hands as Morgana closed the door behind her. But Merlin was free to live and be happy, but Arthur couldn't see him. If he did, he wouldn't be able to handle it.

In the next few days, Arthur extended the hand of peace to the druids, to all magic users. And slowly, hesitantly, they came. He knew Merlin was gone, but all of this kept him too busy to brood. He had taken to sharing the bed with Mithian at night, grateful for the closeness. 

The druids were eager to come to Camelot, to bow at his feet in thanks. Arthur told them they were free to settle, now, that they could have real homes. They would never live in fear from an attack from their king. 

And soon enough, a year had passed. He and Mithian were discussing children, his father was only a memory, and Merlin was a dull ache. But he was happy, and so were his people. He walked through the town, nodding to everyone he passed. And as he walked, he spotted an old man sitting on a ledge, a long pipe hanging from his lips. His gnarled fingers holding the base of it, creating flames out of nothing to keep it burning. 

Arthur recognized him, and walked towards him casually. He took a seat beside him, breathing in the smell of the smoke. "How did you survive?" Arthur asked, his voice lost to the breeze, the sun was high in the sky. This old man with his long beard and tattered robes was the man who had burned but not died. 

The old man laughed. "I do not have magic, Arthur." The voice said, creaky like sand. "I am magic itself. I am one with it. The fire did not hurt, and when I woke, I was back in bed. If a little singed. My magic did not let me perish."

"Why would you come to Camelot and use magic so freely? Because you couldn't die?" 

"I wanted to see just how harmless of a spell would destroy me." There was a butterfly, pale blue lined with black, perched on his fingertip, he held it up for Arthur to see. "Just one little butterfly was all it took, someone saw it, and those guards dragged an old man around." 

"What is your name?" He asked, looking at him, though the old man only sucked from the pipe happily. 

"Emrys." He said, finally, "I don't suppose you've heard of it, all my life I've been told of all the things I'm going to do. But I've never believed it." 

"My father did that too." 

"We're not so different, then." Emrys said, his face cracking into a smile. "Now, come with me, I've got a few more steps left in these old bones. I have a gift for you."

So Arthur followed Emrys, still nodding at his people as they left Camelot, heading a short way into the woods. Emrys grumbled the whole time, hiking up his long robes so he didn't trip. 

Arthur followed him to a small clearing, the light was seeping in prettily, little patches of mist catching on the sun. And in the centre of the soft grasses, there was a large stone with a decorated sword embedded in it. 

"This is a gift from the druids." Emrys said happily, circling around to the other side. "For giving them freedom, a permanent home, safety. This is from all the magic users who no longer live in fear. This sword is enchanted, it will kill the unkillable, it will serve you well, Arthur, as will I." The man sunk to his knees, bowing his head, and Arthur stepped forwards. 

It was decorative, pierced clean through the stone. Engravings he couldn't read on the blade itself. He placed his hand on the hilt, it felt so warm under his palm. When he pulled it, it moved easily. There wasn't a scratch on the blade, as he had expected. Perfectly balanced, perfect in his hand. 

"Thank you, Emrys." Arthur said, admiring the sword in the pale light of the clearing. 

And when Emrys stood, he wasn't an old man. His hair had darkened, the beard had vanished back into his skin, the wrinkles had pulled tight across his face. His limbs were long, his fingers were knobby but smooth. His cheekbones stood out in the light, his eyes were golden and fading to blue.

"Somehow," Arthur started, holding the sword at his side. "I am not surprised to see you again, Merlin." 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about this one. I kinda started writing one foggy evening and went from there. I really hope you enjoyed reading this. :3


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